


Overheard

by foyfoy



Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Getting Caught (kind of?), M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-31 11:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20792873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foyfoy/pseuds/foyfoy
Summary: Companion piece to heroalba’s SurpriseFoyfoy, in his infinite wisdom, accidentally finds himself in a predicament that his dick won’t ignore.





	Overheard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heroalba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroalba/gifts).

> what’s up i’m horny and i write this when alba gave me his unfinished draft of his fic bc i am stupid and horny

“Tch, damn.”

The edge of the couch grinding into his back, Foyfoy’s hand reaches up to remove the gaming headphones he had gotten earlier that week for his birthday. The ‘Happy Birthday’ banner that Alba had bought for the occasion still hung above the TV, and when he glances up at it he feels a snort bubble in the back of his mind. They’re both too lazy to take it down.

Right under the banner hangs their clock, and with great squinted effort Foyfoy can tell it’s just after 1AM. Has he really been playing this long? He only started a little after he got off from work, but _three hours_? His hand absently rubs at the back of his neck; maybe he’s a little too addicted...?

The other hand rubs at his eyes and then his ear. Wearing those headphones made the gaming experience great, more involved and action-packed, but the wax buildup already gets on his nerves. He’ll have to visit the doctor soon to get it checked out, but he has so much to do. His sister’s moving present, a double shift tomorrow (today technically), and he still owes Alba’s boyfriend some money for the cash he spotted him for a car payment last month.

“Fu-uck!”

“Me too,” Foyfoy immediately replies, chuckling. Alba always understands how deep the shit his roommate is in. “At least I can get it worked out with that double shift probably.” He realizes he’s probably talking to himself, and Alba has just dropped something or his boyfriend jokingly shoved him off the bed. Ros has a habit of play bullying Alba.

The main menu screen made a noise, and Foyfoy glances up to see his character doing a default inactivity dance while waiting for his selection. Another game, maybe? First he needs a drink.

His legs are half asleep and Foyfoy almost lands flat on his face when he stands up. Muttering a curse, he shakes his hair out of his face as he leans down into the fridge. Two cans of Bud Light, a quarter of orange juice, and some lemon lime sodas lined messily along the bottom row. He grabs the neatest-looking one and kicks the door shut, struggling for a second with his lack of fingernails to pop the can open. He never could do this-

His pride sours as he still can’t open it, and he almost feels tempted to enter Alba’s bedroom and disrupt the play bullying to ask for help. Then again, Ros usually got annoyed and would chuck things at Foyfoy whenever he interrupts their weird lover fests and getting hit in the head by a plastic yellow giraffe-looking creature doesn’t sound too appealing this late at night. He concedes to using a knife to pop the can open, and with a grin he takes the first drink.

He returns to the living room, but before he can sit down he hears Alba curse again.

“Really, guys?” Foyfoy raises a brow as he glances down the hallway. He doesn’t understand why Alba enjoys that sort of relationship, that incessant bullying and clinginess. Then again, not everybody likes the same sort of relati-

“-ease, Ros!”

Foyfoy’s hand freeze in the process of putting his headphones back on. That didn’t sound like a regular play-induced whine that he’s used to hearing. That sounded more- unconsciously and preemptively, Foyfoy’s cheeks start to warm. Are they fucking?

His eyes focused down the hallway, he blindly gropes for the remote to mute the TV. Now the only sounds in the apartment are the AC, his now-uneven breathing, and a muffled shuffling. He stays silent for another minute, now suspicious. Those two have no shame.

“Babe,” in a cracking tone, distinctly not Alba’s voice. That’s Ros, but he sounds almost pained- “... get ready, I need... you.”

_Oh my fucking God._

Foyfoy rubs at his temple as his eyes avert from the hallway. His heart skips, and he tries to completely erase every cognitive ability he has to hear. They’re fucking while he’s here? Nonetheless, fucking while he’s still awake?! How shameless could they even be?

He turns his back to the hallway, but his eyes don’t focus on the TV. His game character continues his absentminded dancing to the muted music, but he doesn’t process it. How can he focus on his game with the knowledge that those two are-

A low keening whine, and a complaint about something being cold.

Groaning under his breath, Foyfoy’s head falls back to rest on the couch. Those two are shameless. Annoying. Bothersome.

“Please.”

Hot.

He scowls at the ceiling. He did find them both attractive, and while he hasn’t necessarily come out to either of them yet, there was an unspoken knowledge that nobody that frequented the apartment is heterosexually inclined. Given that, he feels as if he’s being treated even more unfairly. They know he likes guys, so their solution is to have sex when he can clearly hear them? Disgusting, shameless, annoying, bothersome-

“You slut-“

Really fucking hot.

Ignoring them is impossible. Leaving the apartment is a viable option, but he’d have to go to his room and get dressed in something other than his ratty I-clearly-have-no-dating-partner gym shorts and the same socks he’s worn for three days in a row... and his room is right across from Alba’s. So he’d have to get closer. He didn’t want to disrupt them, or embarrass them, so going to his room or even the bathroom is out of the question.

So what could he do? He can’t leave the apartment with no shirt or shoes, he can’t get dressed to leave, nor can he even go to his room to sleep or the bathroom to listen closer and jerk off to it.

Wait. His faces both pales and gets even more flushed. Wait, wait, wait, wait. What? Do what?! He doesn’t want to- he isn’t interested-

Alba unconsciously whimpers too loudly, and immediately following that he hears Ros clearly say, “He’s going to hear you. Do you want that?”

... oh.

More consciously than he would ever admit to later, Foyfoy’s hand that had been laying on the floor slowly moves towards his thigh, resting on the exposed skin. He fights with himself mentally; they wouldn’t ever know he did this unless he told them himself, but still... jerking off to his roommate and his boyfriend having a play fantasy that he’s overhearing them? In the end, Foyfoy could blame them for bringing him into this if this ever gets to them. They didn’t have to involve him in a sexual fantasy, but they did. It isn’t his fault if he actually overheard them and indulged their unconscious idea.

Justifying jerking off has never been a problem he anticipated to have.

There’s another gasp from down the hall, a voice cracking in a barely-attempted to be suppressed moan, and Foyfoy throws caution to the wind. If they can get off while he’s home and awake, so can he.

Luckily his ratty gym shorts fit him loosely, and it’s no struggle to slide his fingers under the waistband. He hasn’t groomed himself recently, and he exhales as his fingers push beyond the patch of hair sitting at his public bone. Before he reaches his half-hardened cock, he stops. Last chance to change his mind, stop and just forget he even considered doing this.

“Ros, I need... more...”

Foyfoy grits his teeth, and rougher than intended he groans, “Fuck it, fuck you both,” as he takes ahold of the base. Regret already tingles along his spine, but it’s the kind of regret he knows he’ll only feel in full if this were to be known to anybody but himself. And frankly? It kind of excited him.

Hah, he really did have some unusual ideas, didn’t he? People always joked about him being a bit strange, calling him an over-exaggerating middle schooler, but he didn’t think it applied this deeply to something definitely not reserved to that category.

The noises from down the hall are faint, but still present, and Foyfoy’s eyes lid a little as he stares up at the ceiling. It’s been awhile, so he holds himself back from anything more than a few lazy flicks of his wrist to get the blood flowing. Those two are fucking in his shared apartment while he’s home and awake, and fantasizing about that exact fact. That alone makes spitting in his hand needless; the precum leaking from the top of his dick is more than enough.

Admittedly, Foyfoy has never really noticed Alba beyond a cursory assessment that he’s cute. A bit skinny, body marred by various scars including a distinct one across his stomach, but overall cute. Living with him didn’t provide any outright struggles, more just the occasional accidental _Shit, I didn’t know you were getting out of the shower, my bad_, which they’d end up laughing about the next day. Laughing the next day, but those nights it proved a bit difficult to sleep.

Things only started to come to a head when Alba got a boyfriend.

His hips roll, finding the same rhythm to move his hand to that the bed down the hall has developed. They must have started going at it. How’s Alba positioned? Are they like lovers, missionary and sharing kisses? Can Ros even be that sweet? Or maybe Alba’s bent over, fingers gripping the sheets as he bites his lip, Ros’ own fingers digging into Alba’s hips as he presses forward-

Ros. Alba’s boyfriend. Dark hair, dangerous eyes, and a sadistic streak that stretched longer than the Nile. Fond of play bullying everybody in his vicinity, from Alba to mutual friends to Foyfoy himself. That gleam he always gets in his eyes when he finds somebody’s weak point and mercilessly taunts them for it... is that what’s sparkling in them right now?

Did he find a kink of Alba’s that hadn’t been known before? This kink of being heard, of other people knowing about them? Foyfoy’s breath catches in his throat temporarily as he hears Ros chuckle darkly, muffled down the hall. Teasing Alba about his interest in this, persuading him into a quick fuck while they figured he was busy playing games.

His shorts are in the way. Pausing just long enough to push them down to his knees, Foyfoy adjusts so that he rests more comfortably against the couch. The cold air from the AC makes him bite his lip gently, rolling it between his teeth as he strains to replicate the rhythm of the bed. It’s not fast, but definitely not gentle or easy. Ros must be teasing Alba, trying to make him beg. That’s something Ros would do, isn’t it?

Ros made Foyfoy all but beg for the loan to make his car payment, and then said he would collect the payment one way or another. He didn’t want to think about it then, but the way Ros presents that sadism in day to day activities made something churn in his gut. Alba deals with that daily, no wonder he can’t resist when Ros suggests something like this. That sadism goes hand in hand with seduction.

They’re clearly too in their own world to hear him, so Foyfoy allows himself a few quiet groans as he squeezes at the base. Teasing. Always teasing. Not just him teasing Alba, teasing his friends, but being teased right back. How when he tried to mock Ros for dropping something once, Ros got him back and made a pit in Foyfoy’s stomach burn indignant and aroused. He can’t begin to imagine what sorts of things Alba gets teased about.

As if on cue, Alba squeaks. A high-pitched whimper, a moan, a breathy, “Ros, you- that feels-“ and suddenly Foyfoy’s mind switches gears. “Almost there...”

Alba. He’s shorter than him, but only by a few inches. A lovable, simple face and earnest attitude. The way his cheeks could fluoresce at the first sign of joking mockery, and how he denied it all. Before Ros came into the picture, Foyfoy had found great joy in being the one to embarrass Alba and make him complain. The tone in which he whined, the “Foyfoy-!”, the puffing of his cheeks. The laughter as they shared a beer after an accidental shower walk in.

“Fuck,” he exhales as he opens his eyes again. Maybe he had noticed Alba a lot more than he previously thought. The combination of that realization along with the thoughts about how Ros gnaws heated holes in his gut through his nasty remarks makes it harder for Foyfoy to keep his voice down.

His hand is already moving faster than the noises of the bed, and his thighs shake. These two are the death of him, he thinks. Between the giddiness he feels teasing Alba and the cluster of being teased by Ros, he’s willing to concede to his conscious self that maybe this isn’t the first time he’s imaged the two of them together.

The warmth in his body begins to increase, coming to a boil. The precum at this point is excessive, dribbling down his shaft and leaving wet trails over his balls. He can’t remember the last time he’s been like this. It’s *their* fault. They didn’t have to fuck with him awake, didn’t have to bring him into their fantasy play, didn’t have to be so goddamn hot-

He can’t keep his own voice down like Ros told Alba to, and with a moan louder than he wanted his muscles tighten and cum hits his thighs, a bit resting his abdomen. His breathing heavy, he lets his hand fall away as his cock gives one last twitch of life before it slowly softens. His eyes are closed, stars finishing their dance, and of all things he finds himself smiling a little. Ros and Alba are a great source of material, it seems.

His blood, and mood, immediately run could when he hears the bedroom door open.

“Foyfoy?” It’s Ros. Even worse than it being Alba.

He yelps, scrambling to pull up his shorts and unmute the TV to make it seem he absolutely had not just done that. Once he feels situated enough, he calls back, “Yeah, what is it?”

Ros doesn’t respond for a moment, and Foyfoy’s brows furrow. Please just be wondering if he’s still awake, please don’t ask what he had been doing-

A hand lands on his shoulder and Foyfoy all but falls on his face jumping. He looks up to see Ros, hair disheveled, lips kiss-bruised, and at least three clear hickies on his neck. The only sounds are the AC, the video game’s music, and the blood thumping in Foyfoy’s ears. Ros has an unreadable expression, looking at him blankly.

Well, not looking at his face. Foyfoy tilts his head, trying to play it cool. “What?”

Immediately Ros shifts. A bastard of a grin spreads on his face, the sadistic mocking lighting up his eyes, and he points at Foyfoy’s abdomen. “Damn, I was going to let it go, but you didn’t even clean it all up. Next time you wanna listen in, don’t.” Kneeling down to be eye level, tongue flicking out just enough to make Foyfoy’s eyes follow it, Ros says, “It’s an open invitation. Alba’s word.”


End file.
